Other Side

∞ | Virtuous Cycle

EXISTING WAS NOT for the faint of heart.

Literally.

With that familiar buzz in her head, Talia stood up and swayed to one side, then to the other, unsure where the edge of the counter even was, as it blurred with the rest of the kitchen. Two arms slid underneath hers for what felt like the third time that week already, pulling her back into the only stability she could call her own.

"You okay?" Zaid murmured, dropping his head to the crook of her neck. She looked down and found his hands held in a white-knuckled grip. Breathing out a small sigh as her vision finally cleared, she nodded and rested the back of her head on his shoulder. "Don't you think you should go see a doctor at this point?"

"Maybe," she breathed. She eyed the small pot of hard-boiled eggs on the stove, bubbling water almost hitting the brim, but he simply pushed her down into a chair and went to deal with their breakfast himself. "It would be nice to at least put a name to this."

She'd once grown used to feeling lightheaded whenever she stood up, just needing a moment or two to breathe and let the blood rush back, but during these last few weeks, those symptoms had magnified.

The first few times Zaid had found her sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor on his half-asleep walk to the sink, he'd almost passed out himself. Each time he'd get her back to her feet, he'd nag her about seeking out a professional opinion; as, despite both having siblings in medical school, blood was still a solid no for her, and he'd actually failed biology in high school—a fact she only learned three years into their marriage.

Apparently, Zaid wasn't actually good at everything.

"I'll come with you, if you're worried," he said, pouring himself a generous cup of coffee. "I'm pretty sure I can work from home today, anyway."

She, on the other hand, couldn't. She had a lecture to give at one and then a department meeting an hour later, and the chances of finding an appointment in the next couple hours at the overbooked primary care office were probably slim. Although, the receptionists had taken a particular liking to Zaid during the few times he'd accompanied her—who hadn't, anyway—always finding a way to slip in a quick appointment for her.

As she nibbled on a dry piece of bread, she sorted through her thoughts. Was it POTS? Maybe orthostatic hypotension? She'd tried to remember the fancy jargon Calvin had thrown at her over the phone the other week, using her as practice for his clinical rotations coming up next year.

Zaid slid down on their small table for two next to her, mumbling something about the drizzling rain as he stared out the window. It was another dreary early December morning, the sky that signature milky-white-gray, color seeming to extend to eternity this many floors up. The only bit of brightness in their apartment was the small Christmas tree in their monochromatic living room, bright golds and reds reminding her that it was a festive season.

The joy in the air had gone right over her head in her complete and utter absorption with her new job, what little of her mind and body left offered to Zaid at nights, still their favorite time of day.

She turned her head to the left, offering him a weak smile.

"Don't worry," he reassured her in return, clasping her hand. "Whatever it is, it'll be okay."

***

Some bloodwork and a million questions later, she had a diagnosis—one that expired in exactly nine months.

Zaid and Talia left the clinic in a shared daze, saying nothing to each other since their stiff response to the warm congratulations from Dr. Wang. In fact, the only communication they'd exchanged had been equally horrified glances the moment they discovered how many weeks along she was. A little math, and they both knew this pregnancy was the result of those glorious three rounds on her birthday, a night that had left a pleasant ache between her legs and bruises on her hips for days afterwards.